Page 44 of Rebellious Hearts
“Can we talk about this?” I asked.
Sofia glared at me. “Sure. Why not? Let’s talk about it. Communication is one of the cornerstones of marriage, isn’t it?”
Oh, boy. She was pissed. Beautiful, but pissed.
She had every reason to be angry with me.
“Sit down, please,” I suggested.
Sofia hesitated before she walked to the couch and sat down. I sat close to her, but not too close. In nature, the most beautiful things were usually the most dangerous.
When she sat down, she looked at me, her eyes a little lighter than a moment ago. The storm in them had calmed a little and I couldn’t help but think how much they looked like a stormy ocean. The kind Richard had described.
“Look,” I started. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked at me. She hadn’t expected an apology, and not a lot of people got that from me. But I’d put my foot in it by saying on a whim that we were married.
“I fucked up.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, her temper fading as I apologized, laying it all out instead of giving her more excuses.
“Yeah, you did,” she said tightly after hesitating a beat.
“I just kept thinking that he was going to turn it down because I didn’t have what he wanted, and I can’t crawl back home with my tail between my legs.”
“Too proud?” she sneered.
“Yeah.”
She blinked, surprised. “Oh.”
“I’m the black sheep of the family. Maybe it’s self-proclaimed but the others are always getting so much done, doing so much for the company and me… I just sell fucking planes.”
Sofia didn’t say anything.
“You were both talking about family and legacies and everything and it just made sense to tell him that.”
She pursed her lips together.
“We can make this work. We just need to spend some time as a couple with Richard, and then I think it will seal the deal. I meant it when I said after this, you won’t ever have to see me again.”
“How are we supposed to act like we’re married?” Sofia asked.
“It would help if we knew a bit about each other.”
A knock on the door suggested room service was here, and they delivered a trolley with gourmet sandwiches.
When the server was gone, and I’d given him a generous tip, Sofia glanced at the food.
“Feel free to help yourself,” I said.
She reached for one and bit into it. She groaned again.
God, she was attractive when she lost herself in the goodness of something. She never hid how much she loved it when she ate something great.
It made me want to make sure that everything she ate would be top shelf, that she wouldn’t ever have to make do with cheap food that didn’t taste the way it should.
“Fine,” she said after she’d eaten a bit. I’d taken a sandwich and dug in, too. “Let’s get to know each other, then. I know you have three brothers and a dad since they’re all in the business. Mom?”
